


Dark are the nights (Dark Days, Long Nights Remix)

by JackyJango



Series: Remixes [7]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Insomnia, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: In the dead of the night, Erik can't sleep. Charles does his best to help.





	Dark are the nights (Dark Days, Long Nights Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dark Days, Long Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794918) by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten) in the [remixrevivalmadness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2017) collection. 



> I cannot write Old!Cherik as gracefully as Unforgotten does and hence, have reverted to writing their younger versions.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.  
> Cheers!

         Charles groggily opens his eyes to an empty bed. It's dark, so much so that he has to grapple with the alarm clock set on the night stand and squint in various angles to see the time.

It's a little shy of two o'clock.

The perks of being a telepath, Charles had discovered a long time ago, was not just in playing tricks on others’ minds, it was in playing tricks on his own. He remembers being ten years old and roaming through the humongous mansion in the dead of the night calling out to the voices in his head, hoping guilelessly that, at least, one would echo his words back. Those nights are just memories now. For he had learnt soon after that not only could he read and control minds, he could convince his into blissful sleep as well.

Mastered over the years and ingrained by time, now, Charles sleeps like the dead; mind barred from the whispering voices and limbs as heavy as logs.

Unlike Erik.

Erik is a restless sleeper, Charles has gathered. He wakes up several times during the night- to relieve himself or to fetch water from the kitchen. Sometimes, Charles hears muddled noises of a door opening or the spray of water. Other times, he feels a hand ghosting over his head and down his arms.

A quick look at the dark bathroom nudges Charles into believing that Erik must have headed to the kitchen.

He closes his eyes and promptly goes back to sleep, blatantly ignoring the howl of the wind outside, rattling the window frames menacingly. Sleep finds him quickly and easily.

Charles wakes again to an empty bed, the other side having gone cold now.

It's nearing three, and uneased by Erik's absence, he gets up and heads for the kitchen.

The kitchen is empty. As is his study.

A quick scan of the mansion reveals the metal bender's location. Charles sighs and walks up the stairs to Erik's quarters- which is a few doors away from his.

In the weeks that the evenings spent over a chessboard dissolving into nights melding feverish bodies between the sheets, Erik spent the night curled over him and disappeared in the wee hours of dawn. But never in the middle of the night. Charles decides that he would leave that thread aside to be picked at later.

The lights are on in Erik’s room; a fact that Charles’ sleep heavy brain had failed to catalogue earlier. Erik himself is sat in an arm chair, head bent over his neck and three metal spheres orbiting a palm rested on the arm. So tight is Erik’s mind wrapped around itself that except for its presence, Charles cannot read anything else from it.

How long had Erik been gone? And more importantly, what was he still doing up?

Not wanting to startle Erik out of his privacy, Charles projects his presence to Erik’s mind, soft and unobtrusive.

Erik’s head snaps up to face him immediately and a frown overtakes his face.

‘What are you doing here, Charles?’ he questions, the frown intensifying with every word.

‘I was looking for you,’ Charles replies, ‘You weren’t in bed.’

Neither of them had defined what they were to each other. Erik hadn’t made promises. Charles hadn’t asked. Charles had decided that having Erik near him in any capacity would suffice. In moments like this, he doubts his decision.

‘I was…’ Erik opens his mouth in reply and trails off. ‘I was…’

It’s a clear attempt to concoct a lie, but Erik has always been a shoddy liar. Finally, the metal bender lets out a heavy sigh and his shoulders sag. The metal spheres come to rest in the palm of his hand.

A sharp pain hits Charles’ left temple, birthing from the back of his eye and training down the side of his face. His eyes shut instinctively and a cry escapes his lips. The pain vanishes as quickly as it had come, without leaving a trace of its presence.

It's not his, but Charles knows that pain. Migraine, that had come with the advent of his telepathy. Charles winces in sympathy.

‘How long have you been awake?’ he asks, fearing that he already knows the answer.

‘Quite sometime now,’ Erik admits.

‘Do you have them often?’

A tight nod in approval.

Charles wants to run his hands down Erik’s face, rid him of his pains, make them his. But he stays rooted to the spot, bracing the wooden door frame for support.

‘Don’t you sleep well when you get them?’

‘I don’t sleep at all on most nights, Charles,’ Erik says in a moment of rare admission. His eyes are hollowed of the fight that so often fills them. Despite the lack of sharpness in Erik’s voice, the words pierce Charles’ heart and twists it painfully.

Had Erik been sleeplessly trailing through the mansion every night? Guilt plagues his mind for not sensing it.

‘Why don’t you come back to bed. Let me take care of the pain.’ It’s not a statement, or a  question. Its an offer; an offer, he’s scared Erik will reject.

A warning crosses Erik’s face and before he can voice the words, Charles clarifies, ‘I won’t touch your mind, my friend. Let me just…’ after a beat: ‘help you.’

Charles can sense the dilemma in the changing contours of Erik’s face, his eyes scrunching and lips thinning. After a moment, however, a whoosh of air leaves Erik’s lips and he acquiesces.

In the centre of his bed, Charles sits cross-legged, back rested against the headboard while Erik hovers awkwardly near the edge.

‘Come here, darling,’ Charles holds out his arms in a silent plea.

With a little shuffling, Erik comes to lay on his lap without protest, the left of his face towards Charles.

A bitten groan escapes Erik’s lips as Charles presses his fingertips against the mental bender’s brow. A hand comes to clutch his knee.

‘Sleep, my friend,’ Charles whispers, his other hand petting Erik’s head.

Charles begins to trail his fingers as Erik quietly closes his eyes, over Erik’s head and down to the base of his neck. With every repeated stroke, the lines furrowing Erik’s forehead eases and the tension around his shut eyes begins to ebb. So Charles continues, losing track of time, feeling the weight of Erik’ head on his lap, the texture of Erik’s hair sifting through his fingers and the press of Erik’s rigid muscles under his hands.

The wind blows wildly outside, howling and hooting promises of a rain.

Soon three ticks to four and Erik’s breaths even out into deep inhales and exhales.

Neither of them had defined what they were to each other, and neither of them will. Like his past, Erik’s future will be plagued with missions and stirred by wars. A future that Erik will choose. Charles knows all of this. But that knowledge doesn’t stop the words that sit at the base of his heart from spiralling up his throat and spilling out of his mouth. Words that Erik will never utter back. Words that the roaring winds would bear witness to.

Charles leans his head closer to Erik’s and whispers in the dark of the night, ‘Erik… I love you, darling.’

A heavy rain begins to pour outside, clawing at the window glass with its sharp nails.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Also, [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com) on Tumblr
> 
> If you've read this, love you to the moon and back!


End file.
